


That Boy is Mine

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Distress and Disarray [60]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Happy Ending, M/M, Morning After, Rank Disparity, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: The morning after.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/George Washington
Series: Distress and Disarray [60]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/995307
Comments: 39
Kudos: 85





	That Boy is Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is it, my friends. The end of this particular journey. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoyed the ride. :D

Washington wakes alone, feeling well rested for the first time in months. There’s a thrum of contentment in his chest, and the feeling swells brighter when his sleep-softened thoughts turn toward last night.

Alexander in his bed. Alexander in his arms. Alexander beneath him, making the most distracting sounds Washington has ever heard in his life.

Alexander, spent and exhausted and staring with an incredulous smile after their third, lazier round of intimacies.

That his boy is no longer in bed—or even here in Washington’s quarters—does not worry him. It seems in perfect keeping with a hundred other truths: stars burn; time passes impossibly quickly; Alexander Hamilton does not sleep.

This isn’t literally true. Hamilton _does sleep_. But he makes no secret of despising the lost productivity. And the fact that today he is already up and absent despite the early hour seems utterly inevitable. Of course he is not here. Washington’s restless boy will be hard at work somewhere by now, keeping himself busy, shore leave be damned. A predictable tack that has likely lead him to engineering or the bridge.

Washington dresses without hurry, following his morning routine with a surreal sense of change. The minutiae of his day have not altered in any way, and yet the very foundations of his world are different. Alexander is _his_ , and will almost certainly return to this very room tonight. Every night. There is new solidity between them.

Their understanding is no longer unspoken. The reality of it washes over Washington in a rush, and he smiles like a fool at his reflection in the washroom mirror.

Rarely as he receives unhindered time off duty, there are at least a dozen things Washington could do to fill his day. Somehow none of them call to him the way Alexander does. Ridiculous or not, Washington wants to see his boy. Wants to occupy the same space, to hear his voice, to look straight into those fiercely expressive eyes.

“Computer, what is Hamilton’s location?”

A metallic beep acknowledges the question, followed by an equally metallic alto voice answering, “Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton is in the deck three communications array.”

Of course that’s where Hamilton is. Heaven forbid he and Elizabeth Schuyler forego an opportunity to indulge one of their complicated projects. His communications and engineering chiefs could not be more different in temperament, and yet in some ways they are alarmingly similar.

He hopes they obtained appropriate approvals via Angelica. Washington certainly hasn’t signed off on an overhaul of the communications array.

Washington dresses in uniform for the day, despite his off-duty status. He doesn’t plan to leave the ship, and no one will expect him to engage in official business during their stint in space dock. But he has always been more comfortable in uniform, which is how he steps into the corridor now, making his way toward deck three.

The communications array looks very much like engineering. Smaller, no warp core, but still an expansive space comprised of multiple decks. Ladders, numerous control panels, safety bulkheads with transparent segments, all tangled up together into a workspace designed for efficiency.

Near the back of the vast room, Hamilton and Schuyler are crouched together at the base of one of the primary subspace terminals. Schuyler is half lost beneath the intricately glowing pedestal, and Hamilton kneels beside her, apparently relegated to arguing logistics and handing over whatever equipment she requires. Hamilton’s expression is focused, his hair messy in its queue, his posture loose.

He doesn’t notice Washington approach, too absorbed in his task—which means for a time Washington can watch without interrupting. Hamilton is enthralling, determined and in his element, and for once Washington can observe without fear of consequences. There is no one else here. Most of the crew is already gone, spending their shore leave in the station’s luxurious guest facilities.

The serious atmosphere shatters when Hamilton breaks into a laugh so powerful his entire body shakes. Schuyler must have said something Washington couldn’t hear—something wildly hilarious judging by Hamilton’s reaction. Even when the laughter fades, Hamilton’s expression stays bright as he shakes his head and tucks a flyaway wisp of hair behind one ear.

Washington can’t look away. It delights him to see Hamilton so happy.

Another moment and Hamilton must belatedly feel the weight of Washington’s scrutiny, because he turns his head and grins wide. He meets Washington’s gaze with such unvarnished affection that the room abruptly feels several degrees warmer.

Washington smiles in answer, and then strides toward his boy.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Star, Wisp, Tack


End file.
